


Mint Editions (84 Charing Cross Road)

by Waanderlust



Category: Merlin ( BBC), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookshop fic, Community: reel_merlin, Epistolary, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by Novel, M/M, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waanderlust/pseuds/Waanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A London bookseller and an aspiring New York writer strike up an easy friendship over correspondences about books, and food parcels. Arthur and Merlin finally meet in person in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mint Editions (84 Charing Cross Road)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper (fan)fic and part of reel_merlin 6. Big thanks to my beta eeshbelle, and to rotrude for plot coherence check and Claudine for tagging and other help. Characters from Merlin and 84 Charing Cross Road do not belong to me, but I certainly am very fond of them.

**Prologue: **

 

 

 

Picure source: http://laniersbooks.com/2010/08/16/84-charing-cross-road/

 

“Thanks for talking to us, Mr Pendragon.”

“Just Arthur, please. Mr Pendragon is my father.” Arthur shifts in his [utility suit](http://www.iwm.org.uk/history/clothes-rationing-in-britain-during-the-second-world-war#lightbox-object-205195173), glances at his watch, and gives the girl sitting across his office desk his public relations smile.

The girl, writer of [_The Good Book Guide_](http://www.thegoodbookguide.com/) “Spotlight on Booksellers, 1949” column, smiles back and jabs at her notebook.

“That would be Mr Uther Pendragon, the founder of Pendragon Limited, one of England’s market leaders in publishing and retailing books for the last decade”.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Could you tell us a bit about _Mint Editions_? How did it come about? It’s quite a departure from the type of business that the Pendragon Group runs.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, we are still part of the Pendragon & Co., Booksellers.”

Arthur rolls out his practiced spiel about how the Pendragon Group has always been about books, whether publishing or retailing and how _Mint Editions_ is serving book lovers in another way.

There’s no need to let out that it was his idea and his passion that started it, and how he had to convince Uther that it was a money-making venture and not some lark of his naïve son.

He spies Gwen and Leon giving him questioning looks as they walk past. He shrugs imperceptibly at them; being interviewed is part of the bookseller’s job.

“How has the current climate affected your business? Has the rationing of clothes and sweets dampened sales? Has it influenced what customers read?” the girl reels off.

“Well, that’s where _Mint Editions_ can distinguish itself. It’s in trying times that we need things of beauty and things to give us hope. That’s where books come in, for us to remember the past and envision the future. We specialise in vintage books, old classics, second hand books- they could be Bibles, anthologies, love poems, or even children’s’ books- anything really, even music scores and scripts.”

This time, Arthur’s smile is genuine, as he looks around the bookshop and sees the rows of assorted books. It will never be as neat and tidily shelved as new books could be, but the random sizes and eclectic histories of the books are what give character and life to _Mint Editions_.

“Ah yes, children’s books,” the interviewer pulls two slim volumes out from her bag. “I’ve just been asked to review two new publications. “

Arthur looks down to see _Little Noddy Goes to Toyland_ and _The Secret Seven._ He nods politely, “Enid Blyton? Who knows, one day someone might be looking for a first edition of this as well?” They both nod and laugh.

“Final question; is there anything special about the _Mint Editions_ customer?”

“Not really. They really come from all walks of life; we often have European and North American customers, looking for books they can’t easily get where they are.” Arthur is thinking of one particular customer. “Yes there certainly are some colourful characters out there.”

“Thank you for your time, Arthur”.

“My pleasure.”

 

* * *

 

**Part 1:**

14 East 95th St.

New York City

November 5, 1949

Pendragon & Co.

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C. 2

England

 

Gentlemen:

Greetings from across the pond!

I read with interest your advertisement in the _Saturday Review of Literature._ It is my hope that “antiquarian book-sellers” is a phrase used to give a distinguished air and does not equate with expensive. I am a poor writer with a love for vintage and old, _old_ books and a particular interest in medieval myths and legends.

This means that the books I want can usually only be found locked up in the library, in monstrously expensive rare editions or as tattered school-boy cast-offs.

Please see enclosed some titles that have eluded me so far, if you could help me with any of those I’d be grateful. As long as they are US$5 or below, go ahead to send them to me as a firm order.

Very truly yours 

_Merlin Emrys_

 

 

 

(Mr) Merlin Emrys

 

* * *

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

27th November, 1949

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Sir

Thank you kindly for your enquiry and for your business.

In reply to your letter of 5th October, we have some good news. The _Legends of Avalon_ you want as well as the _An Illustrated History of Armour_ are available. We are sending nice copies of these by Book Post and trust they will arrive safely and that you will be pleased with them. Our invoice is enclosed with the books.

The anthology of Arthurian legends is not going to be so easy, but we will see if we can find you an attractive volume. We haven’t the Latin Bible you describe, but we do have a Latin New Testament, as well as a Greek one, all in ordinary cloth bindings. Would you like to purchase these?

 

Yours faithfully,

AAP

For PENDRAGON & CO.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

14 East 95th St.

New York City

January 3, 1950

Mint Editions

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C. 2

England

 

Dear gentlemen

I greet you with a long and happy sigh. I am delighted to say that the books are adorning (and embarrassing) my orange-crate bookshelves.

I’m almost afraid to crack open the spine and handle the pages lest I get my fingerprints onto them.

I’ve enclosed payment, please use the balance of the price towards the two Bibles you’ve mentioned. Don’t worry, I’d rather give cash than run down and buy a money order in some fancy arrangement.

By the way, your bookshop name is confusing- do I call you _Mint Editions_ , or _Pendragon & Co_? And why does a second-hand bookshop have a name that makes it sound like it sells NEW books ( mint? No?). Small matter, but writers have curious minds.

 

Yours,

 _Merlin Emrys_  

 

 

PS- “Sir” does make me sound like a titled gentleman, which I’m most definitely _not._

 

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

March 25, 1950

 

MISTER PENDRAGON, what are you DOING over there, are you even doing ANYTHING? ANYTHING AT ALL, you are just sitting AROUND.

Where is the T.H. White? Where is the _Oxford Verse?_ Where is the anthology of Arthurian legends which I was looking forward to for an uplifting read. Instead you have sent me exactly NOTHING. AT. ALL.

You leave me sitting here writing long margin notes in books that don’t belong to me. One day they’ll find out and take away my library card. And my part-time library job.

I have made arrangements with the Easter bunny to bring you an Egg, he will get over there and find you have died of inertia and are fossilising on the floor of that bookshop of yours, covered in cobwebs like some Fisher King character.

Spring is in the air, and with it, every self-respecting writer should have a book of poems to be inspired by. Something light, possibly romantic, BUT- no Keats or Shelley please, use your own good judgement. Just a small nice book to bring to Central Park and sit in the sun to soak up.

Well, don’t just sit there, go find it! I swear I don’t know how that shop keeps going!!! Hmppphh.

 

 

 

M.E.

* * *

 

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

5th April, 1950

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Mr Emrys,

I have to thank you for your very welcomed Easter parcel which arrived safely yesterday. We were all delighted to see the tins and the box of shell eggs. All our staff joins me in thanking you for your very kind and generous thought of us.

I’m afraid we don’t have a book of poems as you’ve requested, but will look out for one for you. While I do apologise that we haven’t been able to send you any of the books you want, I’m sure you are aware that this is a second-hand bookshop, and our supply does vary with time.

Our heartiest thanks once again for the parcel.

 

Yours faithfully,

_A. Pendragon_

 

 

 

For PENDRAGON & CO

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

April 28, 1950

 

Excuses, excuses. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the comment hidden in your thank-you note. Of course I know it’s a second-hand bookshop, but can you blame me for pining after more books?

I’m very pleased you and your colleagues are enjoying the Easter parcel. It’s really no trouble at all, honestly, they are very reasonably priced and I’m delighted to share them with you.

In the meantime, I have to make do with bringing grimy library copies of books to Central Park to sit and enjoy the sunshine. While waiting for my own copies to arrive. From my bookseller in London.

 

 

Merlin

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

17th June, 1950

 

Dear Mr Emrys,

Please don’t tell Arthur know I’m writing you, but honestly every time I send you a bill I’ve been dying to slip a little note in and he might not think I should do so. So this is my personal hello to you.

I know Arthur sounds all proper and stuffy, he’s not, he can be very nice and kind, he just has something about doing the right thing at the right time, what with being the owner’s son and all. Don’t tell him I said that, though, he’ll get all huffy and puffy! Also, don’t tell him that I said that he looks upon you as his own private correspondent as though all your letters and parcels are addressed to him- that man!

But I just really wanted to write to you on my own.

We all love your letters and try to imagine what you must be like. I imagine you’re a young, chic, sophisticated writer, a dapper young man out and about the exciting city of New York. Old Mr Geoffrey thinks you must be quite studious and serious despite of your wonderful humour and personality. Why don’t you send us a snapshot, all of us at the shop would love to have it.

If you’re curious about Arthur, he’s in his early thirties, blond and quite nice-looking (many girls seem to think so anyway); prone to bouts of solemnness, and of taking himself way too seriously, but can be very fun and jokey when you get to know him.

Everyone is so grateful for the parcel. My younger brother Elyan was in Heaven- with the raisins and the eggs I was actually able to make him a proper cake. Really, thank you so very much! It does mean a great deal for us in times like this.

I do hope you don’t mind me writing. Please don’t mention this to Arthur! 

 

 

 

With best wishes

_Gwen Smith_

 

PS- I shall put my home address at the back of this in case you should every want anything sent to you from London. G.S.

 

* * *

14 East 95th St.

July 9, 1950

 

Dear Gwen

Oh pffft… OF COURSE you can write to me!! Never mind Arthur!! I won’t tell him… yet.

Tell Old Geoffrey I’m SO unstudious I never even went to college; when I’m not a writer I pick up some spare hours at the local library helping with the shelving and stuff, as if I needed an excuse to spend even more time with books. I figure it’s better than working at the bookshops where will be endlessly tempted. Luckily I’m more interested in old books; this is thanks to a Cambridge professor I met when I fell over him in a library.

I live in T-shirts that are washed thin under moth-eaten sweaters and wool slacks as our buildings aren’t heated here in the daytime. My lovely (rent- controlled!) brownstone only has lonely small me as a writer working at home in the day, why should the landlord keep heating the whole building?

Poor Arthur, I give him such a hard time, I’m always bawling him out for something, but it’s such fun! I’m teasing but I know he’ll take me seriously. I keep trying to puncture that proper British reserve, and he is so easy to tease. If he gets ulcers, it’s my fault.

Please write and tell me about London and the bookshop. I don’t remember anything about England from when I was a babe before my mother uprooted us here.

But ah, the London of English literature seems amazing and calls to me. I live for the day when I step off the boat-train and doff my cap at St Paul’s where John Donne preached, and sit on the step Elizabeth sat on when she refused to enter the Tower, and to walk up Berkley Square, and look up at the Trafalgar Square lions and the cobblestoned side streets, and that famous London fog! I’m sure it’s still there!

 

Regards-

_Merlin Emrys_

 

 

 

 

* * *

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

20th February, 1951

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Mr Emrys,

I do hope you don’t think we have forgotten about you and your wants.

Sometime ago, you had asked for Newman’s _Idea of a University_. We’ve located a first edition for $6.00. It’s a little age-stained but a good copy still. In case you would like it, we will put it to one side till you reply.

There are six of us in the shop, including my father whom the shop is named after, although he is now semi-retired.

 

With kind regards

Yours faithfully,

_Arthur Pendragon_

  

 

 

For PENDRAGON & CO

 

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

March 17, 1951

He has a first edition of Newman’s University for six bucks.

Do I want it, innocently he asks.

**OF COURSE I DO-!**

I’ve never cared much for first editions, but that book! At that price!

I am not worthy, but yes yes yes please.

I don’t look anywhere else for my books anymore, so no need to wonder if I’ve found something somewhere else. Why should I run all the way downtown to buy dirty, badly made books when I can provide clean, beautiful ones without leaving my typewriter? From where I sit, London is closer than 17th Street. 8 dollars is enclosed for the book, keep the change for my account.

I know mailing cash gives you a heart attack, but did I tell you about George? He buys books from London too, and he’s all proper and got a proper money order and cabled it, and all that.

The money order got lost!

No, I did not gloat. Here’s to His Majesty’s Postal Services!

_M.E._

  

 

 

 

PS- I am sending a small parcel to celebrate Easter and Spring!

* * *

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

7th March, 1951

Dearest Merlin

I’ve had the enclosed snapshots for ages, but have not had the chance to send them to you. These are of my father Tom and my brother Elyan, taken last Christmas.

I do hope you get your wish to come to London, we would so love to finally meet you. Why not save your pennies and come next summer? My family would be delighted to put you up.

Morgana (Arthur’s sister who also works in the shop) and I are going on a week’s holiday to Bristol and Bath and to see the famous Stonehenge, in July. Why don’t you come with us?

But Arthur is trying to see what I’m writing so I shall have to stop.

 

  

 

 

Sincerely

_Gwen_

* * *

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

4th April, 1951

Merlin, dear-

Your wonderful Easter packages have arrived, and funnily, everyone is quite upset because Arthur’s just left on a buying trip and hasn’t written to thank you, and of course no one else quite dares to write to _ARTHUR’S MERLIN_.

My dear, the MEAT! I really don’t think you should spend like that, but bless you and your kindness. It must have cost a packet.

Mr Pendragon senior comes with work, so I must stop.

 

 

 

 

Love

_Gwen_

* * *

Shoreditch

London

5th April, 1951

Dear Mr Emrys

I have been working at Pendragon & Co for almost two years, and would like to thank you for my share-out of the parcels which you’ve been sending. It is so good to know that someone so far way and can be so kind and generous to people they haven’t even seen, and I know everyone in the shop feels the same way. It is a really very decent thing for you to do.

If at any time, you know of anything that you would like sent from London, I will be most happy to help you with it.

Sincerely

Leon Nelson

 

* * *

 

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

9th April, 1951

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Merlin

I expect you might be a bit concerned we have not written to thank you for your parcels; rest assured they have reached us and we are in fact not an ungrateful lot. I have been around the country chasing books to fill up our sadly depleted stock.

Your parcel is simply remarkable, and we have not seen so much meat in one place for a long time. To express our appreciation, we are sending by Book Post a little book of poems, which we hope you will like. This is the nearest I can get to the book of poems for spring you asked for.

I do agree that I do not need to address you so formally. I am really not so stand-offish as you might believe, but as copies of my letters to go into the office files, the formal address seemed more appropriate. However, as this letter has no official book orders, there will be no copy.

In coming back to your parcel; please know that if you ever decide to make the trip to London, there will always be a bed for you at any of our homes for as long as you care to stay.

 

With best wishes from us all,

 _Arthur Pendragon_  

 

 

 

 

* * *

14 East 95th St.

June 14, 1951

**ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU HAVE BEEN PUBLISHING THESE MAMMOTH CATALOGUES ALL THESE YEARS AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU HAVE EVERY BOTHERED TO SEND ME ONE? THOU ART VARLET?**

Luckily I’m too big of a person to hold it against you for long. Also I’ve always wanted to use the word Varlet in a sentence, can’t remember which playwright called everybody one.

As it happens, there’s nothing there I want.

…

You knew that, didn’t you?

Have you got Mallory's _Le Morte Darthur_? Mine seems to have walked away, or maybe someone borrowed mine and never gave it back.

It’s just occurred to me- were you by any chance named after King Arthur? Great British names and all that. And no, I am NOT going to tell you I was named after the wizard. Don’t ask. 

 

 

 

 

merlin

* * *

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

14th July, 1951

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Merlin _( you see I don’t care about the files anymore),_

We do have available a clean copy _The Works of Sir Thomas Malory,_ which includes some of what you need. It is approximately US$20 and as you have some credit with us, the balance is just under US$8.

I’m not sure you could say I’m named after King Arthur. The old name was _Artorius_ so I guess somewhere I’m linked to the legendary king, but frankly, my father was a fan of Sherlock Holmes stories and the writer Arthur Conan Doyle. So there you go. 

 

  

 

 

Yours faithfully,

_Arthur Pendragon_

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

September 14, 1951

 

Dear Speedy

You dizzy me, rushing over the Saint Thomas Malory. It’s only been eighteen months since I asked for them.

You better watch out, I’m finally selling scripts and if the series gets renewed I’m coming over there next year!

Did I ever tell you I write arty murders for television series? All my scripts have artistic backgrounds- ballet, concert hall, operas. And all my suspects and corpses are cultured, maybe I’ll do one about the rare book business just for you, do you want to be the murderer or the corpse?

But I tell you what I really want to write, are murders set in the medieval times, like _Murder in the Times of King Arthur’s Court_. Not quite Agatha Christine’s _Murder in the Orient Express_ , but you get the idea.

  

 

 

 

 

merlin

* * *

**Mint Editions**

**PENDRAGON & CO., Booksellers**

84, Charing Cross Road

London, W.C.2

1 September, 1951

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Merlin

Prepare yourself for a shocker. ALL THREE of the titles you asked for are on its way to you and should arrive in a week. Don’t ask us how we did it – it’s magic – and just part of our Pendragon service.

Two of your friends dropped by last week, a charming American couple. You really will have to come by sometime, there are so many American tourists in London now, and they all seem to be having a good time. We’re sure you will too.

 

 

 

 

With best wishes from us all,

Arthur

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

September 14, 1951

Artie- good news and bad.

First- my TV series got cancelled, so I was mooning about and feeling sorry for myself.

But then, I got a job writing an outline for a modern-day drama.

And guess what I did!! I wrote about a family dynasty modelled after King Arthur’s life, without using those names of course, but all the storylines and characters were all there. And they liked it and they’re going to give me more work this fall!

Well, it’s true about timeless legends then after all!!

I’m doing my happy seal dance about this.

 

Cheers Merls

  

 

 

 

* * *

 

15 November, 1951

Mr Merlin Emrys

14 East 95th Street

New York 28, New York

U.S.A.

 

Dear Merlin

I hope I haven’t got your hopes up; there is no book order for this, but I wanted to say sorry about your TV series getting cancelled, and to say that is really excellent news about your drama serial.

I imagine you must be a very talented writer, to be able to spin a modern day soap opera (is that what they call them nowadays?) from King Arthur’s legends. Were they very sordid stories?

Perhaps this means we might have the pleasure of finally meeting you, if you are able to travel to London soon on the basis of your regular work? We would be so pleased to have you at our shop and show you around. It’s not very large, but we have worked hard to make it pleasant. I have enclosed one of my favourite snapshots of it.

 

Yours faithfully 

 

 

 

Arthur

* * *

14 East 95th St.

December 16, 1951

 

To “ his friends at 84 Charing Cross Road”

 **GORGEOUS.** Simply gorgeous.

The _Book-Lovers’ Anthology_ stepped out of its wrapping, all gold-embossed leather and gold-tipped pages, easily the MOST. BEAUTIFUL. BOOK that I own. It’s as if it’s never been read before, but it must have, because it keeps falling open at the most delightful and alluring places, as if the ghost of the previous owner pointing me there, and there’s a small doodle right at the back of that looks like a butterfly . I love that it was loved and read before.

It seems unfair to me that your Christmas presents will be eaten up in a week, while I’ll have mine till the day I die, to bequeath to whoever I want!

Thank you all so much. Happy new year, from a very very happy book-owner.

 _Merlin_  

  

 

 

* * *

 

14 East 95th St.

December 20, 1951

 

Dear Artie

Guess what!!! I have work !! They paid me upfront!! For a whole season’s work!

I’m COMING TO LONDON!!

 

_Merlin_

* * *

   

 

 

 

 

**Part 2: **

**London**

**20 May 1953**

“Yes, I am finally, FINALLY here!”

That was all Arthur caught as a whirlwind of dark hair atop a brown coat clutched at his arm, pumped his hand and continued to prattle on. It was very challenging to make out what Merlin was saying when Arthur could only see cupid-bow lips and startling blue eyes.

It was going to be a challenge to act professionally. Right, act professionally. Why did his voice seem to be stuck in his throat?

“Hello. Yes you are,” Arthur finally said. “Welcome to London. Here, let me help you with that.”

“Thanks. It doesn’t seem like much luggage, does it?” Merlin laughed. “This all really is like a dream.”

They made their way through the crowded airport to Arthur’s car. With suitcases loaded and Merlin belted into the front seat, it was suddenly very quiet. Arthur wasn’t really sure what to say; he had thought he knew Merlin fairly well, but it now occurred to him that few formal paragraphs exchanged every few months might not qualify as conversation.

He considered complaining about the weather, but since that had been uncharacteristically glorious, he instead settled on, “Sorry, my car radio’s on the blink.”

“It’s ok. Thanks for coming to pick me up, by the way.”

“My pleasure.”

That was when Arthur spied his gas gauge blinking and cursed silently. He’d forgotten to top up the petrol until he was rushing to the airport, and then thought he could do it later. Well, this was “later”. Could he make it to a service stop in time? Of all the times for this to happen! How embarrassing if the car ran dry on the expressway. He scrunched his face up.

The green signs pointed to a service stop ten miles away. He turned off the air-conditioning and started counting down the miles.

It had gone completely quiet inside the car. Arthur turned to see Merlin slumped down, eyes closed. Probably resting.

Ten miles… nine… eight… seven…

Arthur’s mind wandered to Leon’s story about having to help push a cab when it had run out of gas on his way to the airport.

Six… five.. four… three…

Merlin stirred, and stretched out, but said nothing. He slid sideways glances at Arthur, worrying his lower lip while his brows furrowed.

Two… almost there.

Just as Arthur spotted the sign to pull into the service slip road, Merlin said quietly, “ Is this going to be awkward?”

Confused and craning his neck see the turn-off, Arthur murmured, “Hmm? What?”.

Ah, there it was, the blessed petrol pumps! He had made it!

“ I know meeting face to face isn’t the same, but, umm…”

“Sorry, just give me a minute.” Arthur jumped out of the car and set the pump to work, then ran back. “Sorry you were saying?”

“ I was just saying that this feels a little awkward. It seemed much easier when we were writing letters. Are you sure it’s still ok to stay with you for my visit? I mean, it’s perfectly fine if you’ve decided I’m not what you expected…”

“ What? No, no, no, why would you think that?”

“ I knew what you looked like because Gwen had sent me some pictures, but you had no idea about me, did you? You seem so stilted and formal, I thought maybe this isn’t going to be a good idea. ”

“I am NOT stilted! Hang on… Gwen did what?”

“Oops, was I not supposed to mention that?”

“Err, no, no it’s fine. Wait, that’s not the point.”

Arthur took in a deep breath. “ It’s got nothing to do with pictures. I might have been a little nervous meeting you, and then we were busy getting to the car. Then I realised my car was almost out of petrol. I’ve stressing ever since we left the car park about being left high and dry.” He flushed at having to say that so bluntly.

Merlin’s face was a study of expressions. He looked Arthur up and down, dubiously, curiously, and then, finally, started to laugh.

“ You idiot, is that why you’ve been so prickly and then went dead silent just now? I thought the worst, and was going to give it up for a lost cause!”

“Come on, it wasn’t THAT bad! I said hello and helped with your bags. Are you always such a sensitive soul?”

“Me? You’ve barely said ten words! You sounded like a posh twat, greeting some stranger that you’ve just met.”

“Well, we HAVE just met!”

“We’ve only been exchanging letters for , oh, the last two and a half years? Honestly, you prat!” Merlin was smiling widely now.

“Hey, stop calling me names! You’re the fragile flower.” Arthur raised his eyebrows and smiled suddenly. “ Alright, shall we try again? Hello, I’m Arthur and I’m very pleased to finally meet you. My colleagues and I are really looking forward to hosting you. “ He offered his hand.

“ Gawd, again you with the legalese! What am I, your meet-and-greet client? Where’s my garland and welcome drink, then?” Merlin took the proffered hand. “Hello, Arthur, I’m Merlin, and I am sure I will have the time of my life with you lot.”

“You most certainly will. We have the best bookshop in London. Completely and utterly brilliant.”

With that the air was cleared. That was how Arthur and Merlin finally met face to face.

 

**********

 

“Merlin, this is the history section, together with the other non-fictions. “ Gwen’s voice drifted into Arthur’s office. “ This is Geoffrey, our colleague who handles that area.”

“Good to meet you, young man” . “And you as well, sir.” Gwen and Merlin’s voices faded into the distance, and Arthur tried to concentrate on an invoice.

Merlin’s debut at _Mint Editions_ was a runaway success. He had insisted on visiting the very day he landed, and was mobbed once he set foot through the doors. Gwen flew from the storeroom and hugged him like an old friend, Leon shook his hand heartily and started talking about soccer matches, and even Morgana deigned come by to say hello.

Between them, they dragged Merlin this way and that to show him their favourite parts of the bookshop, and Arthur didn’t have the heart to say he wanted to be the one to show Merlin himself. It wasn’t even really a very big bookshop, and the shelves had been added over time in a slightly haphazard style. Much of their business was through mail, so visual merchandising wasn’t one of their priorities.

“What do you think of our little shop?” Arthur ventured to ask, when he finally got Merlin into his office alone. The “office” was really just a corner of the shop where his desk was blocked from general view by two big shelves creating a doorway of sorts.

“ I adore it,” Merlin turned his shining face to him, from where he had been fingering some old books. “I loved it already from your picture, and I love it even more now that I’m here. New York has bookshops too, but London has a whole different flavour. Your shop even smells different, and oh, the shelves and the panelling!”

He pointed to the dark walls and floor. “I love that the floorboards creak slightly, and that I feel like I’m transported back into time, and characters from a Dickens story could stroll right in. I love that the shelves hold so many stories, so many voices from the past. ”

Merlin’s voice softened when he talked like this, Arthur thought. It was an interesting voice, deep and soft with a strong American accent that he had to concentrate to understand.

“Whenever I was shelving at the library, “Merlin continued. “ I’d dream about having my own bookshop.”

He grimaced as he stretched his lanky frame against the nearest bookshelf. “Although I’d probably spend all the time reading the books, and very little time actually selling them. “ He laughed. “ Sorry I got carried away there waxing lyrical about your shop.”

“Don’t be,” Arthur was feeling warm and fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure it was from the warm weather. “It’s really nice that customers- that you- like our shop too. I-we- worked hard to set it up, it’s only been here a couple of years, just a baby compared to the other shops, and to my father’s retail shops.”

Merlin propped himself up on a side cabinet. “ You’re my very own bookseller! “ he declared, swinging his legs.

“Your what?” laughed Arthur. “Hardly an honorific title?”

“ I think it’s VERY honourable! I adore booksellers!”

“How many do you know?”

“Er, personally? Just you guys.”

“ You’re really rubbishy, you know, Merlin? “

“ What kind of word is that? You’re rude- I compliment you and you insult me. You dollop-head you.”

“Now who’s making up words? You’re meant to compliment me back and say that I’m your favourite customer!”

“ You’re certainly my most exasperating one. Who else would scold me and call me a varlet?”

“ Your most interesting customer? Most creative? Most… “

“Lunch anyone?” Leon poked his head into Arthur’s office and looked expectantly at them. “ Fish and chips at the local pub? Merlin, you have to try our mushy peas. Don’t look like that! You’ll love them.“

“Is it lunch already?” Arthur looked at the one and only invoice he’d managed to process that morning. “Sure. Come, Mister Creative, let’s show you English grub.”

Merlin grinned and leant in to whisper to him as they followed Leon out. “ Yes, O Favoured Bookseller of Mine.” Arthur blushed and looked down resolutely.

 

**********

 

Everybody at _Mint Editions_ wanted to take Merlin out.

Gwen had wanted to host Merlin at her home as well, but was placated when Arthur said she could have time off to take Merlin to visit Bath instead. Morgana offered to take him shopping at the famous Selfridges along Oxford Street, which Arthur doubted Merlin would like, but didn’t want to be the one to tell Morgana that. Merlin seemed more of the museum and church type to Arthur, and he fully intended to have every minute he could with their visitor.

Arthur had painstakingly drawn up a schedule of what Merlin could do in his time there. When he proudly showed it to Merlin, Merlin gently thanked him, then proceeded to ignore half of it. He didn’t seem interested in the traditional tourist attractions (“no, I do NOT want to see Parliament House. Why would I want to visit a cold brick building where people sit around and talk about boring politics?), nor football matches (Arthur thought smugly that he was right), but was delighted with the list of bookshops he could visit.

Merlin also had the names of some relatives to visit in Cardiff, as well as friends of his English neighbour whom he met to pass things to. By and large, though, he seemed happy to wander the streets of London with an A to Z, and to meander in the parks.

Arthur spent all the time he could spare with Merlin, but the bookshop still had to run. He’d already postponed his book-buying trips so he could remain in London. He did NOT pout when he could not join Merlin and the girls to go to Bath (“ Jane Austen, Arthur! We saw her house!”) and had been pacified with their gifts of Sally Lunn’s buns.

Gwen pointed out that Merlin was staying in Arthur’s own flat, so he already had the lion’s share of Merlin’s time. He couldn’t very well voice to Gwen his real feelings on this; he couldn’t say, “Yes, but it still doesn’t seem like I see him enough. I just want to see him all the time.” Nor could Arthur say that he already felt like he knew Merlin better than many people in London. That wouldn’t be professional at all, would it?

 

***********

 

**24 May 1953**

Any illusions of professionalism had disintegrated at an alarming rate. In a blink of an eye, everybody at the bookshop treated Merlin like one of them, like an old friend, instead of a customer that just happened to be staying at their boss’ flat, and who seemed to spend all his time in London attached at the hip to this said boss.

Arthur told anyone who would listen that he was taking his summer holiday by exploring his own city for a change. He had been so busy setting up _Mint Editions,_ he’d hardly had much of a life outside the shop. Now that business was stabilizing, he could take a little breather. Well, and that breather just happened to coincide with Merlin’s visit.

Merlin would come by the bookshop around lunchtime most days, and they would take off for one or another of the sites within walking distance. It was lucky that they both agreed “walking distance” could be a rather considerable trek. Time with Merlin always passed too quickly for Arthur anyway.

“So is it what you expected?” Arthur asked Merlin as they stood staring up at the West End of St Pauls’ Cathedral.

“It’s beautiful, but, to be honest, I’m not that into architecture, so I can’t appreciate Christopher Wren’s artistry, or it being the tallest building in London.”

“ Right, so you wanted to come here because…?”

“ I just wanted to be here. To see for myself what I’d only imagined or had read in books were.”

“And who was here? It’s famous you know, for having escaped damage in the war. Quite the symbol of British victory, standing upright still in the smoke.”

“John Donne, you plebe! It wasn’t exactly in the church, when he preached to thousands of people. It was in [the courtyard](http://web.ncsu.edu/abstract/technology/wms-donne-time-machine/); it’s no longer here, but we can look up where it used to be.”

Arthur cast a sideway glance as they strode towards the gardens of the cathedral. “Hey Merlin.”

“Yeah?”

“So were we what you expected?” He tried to keep his tone light and casual, as if it wasn’t a question he had wanted to ask Merlin for days.

Merlin slowed down, but didn’t break stride. “I’m not sure I knew what to expect. It’s horrible when you hope too much and then it’s nothing like you thought. Do you know they say it’s the anticipation that makes people happy when they’re planning a holiday.” He glanced at Arthur. “Was I what you expected?”

How was Arthur supposed to answer that honestly? Yes Merlin was, and more besides, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to do about it. He swallowed and pretended to stop to read some plaque on the wall. “Sort of. In person, you’re still quite a character, and really witty. Although you seemed feistier in your letters.“

“Well, you know,” Merlin shrugged. “There’s your writing voice, your author voice, and all that. I find it easier to express myself on paper. That’s why I’m a writer and not an actor or performer. “

That was true. After their initial meeting at the airport, Arthur had been surprised that Merlin wasn’t as verbose as his letters might have indicated. Since Arthur himself wasn’t a great talker if he didn’t need to be, that often led to pockets of surprisingly comfortable silences.

Merlin bumped Arthur’s shoulder suddenly and said, “I also had to be louder on paper because _somebody_ was not sending me the books I wanted.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Arthur said in mock exasperation. “ Vintage books, remember! It’s not like we can order it from the publisher for you.” He drew himself up with an air of dignity. “That’s the standard of the Pendragon service.”

“ You do seem less stuffy in person, though. From your first few letters, I’d imagined you were about 60 years old.”

“ I am NOT stuffy. It’s called being polite and professional. Not that you would know about that! ”

They were interrupted as the showers that had been imminent finally materialised. They sprinted to hide inside the church until it passed, and passed the time very pleasantly by delivering mild insults to each other and checking which parts of the cathedral gave the best echoes. Merlin denied that he was cold from getting slightly wet in the rain, but Arthur noticed he didn’t shrug away when he slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, supposedly to keep him warm.

  

********* ** **  
****

**27 May 1953**

“Tell me about New York,” said Arthur to Merlin as they sat on the steps of St-Martin -the-Field church, gazing out at the Trafalgar stone lions. Behind them, the sounds of the lunchtime choir trilled faintly through the church doors.

Merlin crumpled his sandwich wrapper, and threw some crumbs at the pigeons nearby. “I like New York a lot. It has a different kind of vibe, and the people there are so direct and no-nonsense, I’m sure you English would find them very rude, but that’s just the way they are. It’s hard to say who a native New Yorker is, and the mix of people gives it a lot of creative energy.”

He patted down his coat. “ You should come one day, Arthur. I could bring you around.”

Arthur suddenly felt a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “Maybe one day. “

He stood suddenly and pulled Merlin to his feet as well. “Hey, let’s go and buy those strawberries you said you liked.

**********

**31 May 1953**

**Stonehenge, Wiltshire**

 

[ ](http://s1333.photobucket.com/user/Wanderful48/media/bd3e0159-aa01-4f8c-b878-1f5d65ec1830_zpsfadfc62f.jpg.html)

_(Photo: my own, June 2013)_

Merlin’s excitement did not seem to be tempered by Stonehenge seeming like a dwarf version of the legendary stones.

“They don’t even really seem to be set in a circle.” Arthur observed as they approached the site, the wind whipping away his words. He looked the busy road nearby, wondering if he should slosh further cold water by saying that the setting was awfully pedestrian.

“It doesn’t matter! It’s Stonehenge! Legendary burial place of King Arthur! Place of great mystery and intrigue! Or, if you believe the other story, the stones were from the Giant’s Dance in Ireland and conveyed by warlock Merlin magically to this place.”

“Please, please spare me. It’s very odd when you tell me the tales from my own country. Weirder still when you keep using our names.” Arthur entertained himself by standing very close to Merlin and nudging him occasionally as Merlin kept stopping every few steps to stare at the stones.

He’d taken to doing this as his way to make Merlin move. Merlin was slightly taller, but Arthur was the stockier of the two; when he leant his weight into Merlin, Merlin had to work hard to press back or else risk being toppled. One time in the bookshop, this had gone slightly out of control and Leon had come to see what the commotion was and them shamefacedly picking themselves off the ground.

Arthur admitted there was something about Stonehenge’s aura. In the dismal cold weather, and with the occasional swooping raven, it was worthy of its reputation. The attraction was fairly quiet today as they had come very late, almost closing time, and the weekend crowd was emptying out. The long summer days meant it was still very bright.

He waited for Merlin to choose a nice viewpoint and they sat on the grass as Merlin focussed on the stones, his pencil flying on his notebook. Arthur was looking at Merlin instead. Merlin caught his eye once or twice and smiled.

To get a better view of the sketch, Arthur shuffled until he was behind Merlin, propping his chin on his left shoulder. When Merlin didn’t say anything, Arthur moved his body to follow his head, until most of his chest pressed up against Merlin’s back. His right arm itched to follow with what seemed like a natural pose, to snake around Merlin’s front and hug Merlin closely to him; but he didn’t. Breathing very slowly, he forced his arm to stay down, holding it straight by his body, but conceded to pressing his elbow lightly along Merlin’s waist.

Merlin’s breathing hitched, and his pencil stuttered a little, before resuming its quick action.

So there Arthur remained there, for what seemed like a long time, until Merlin turned his head to say, “OK, I’m done. We can go.” His face was right next to Arthur’s and they breathed together for a few heartbeats till Arthur pulled back wordlessly.

On the way back in the car, Arthur wondered if Merlin would say anything. He didn’t. Arthur didn’t want to say anything either. Things felt unreal, but he was happy for them to keep going that way.

That was how Arthur almost-hugged Merlin. It started their pattern of being more tactile, involving plenty of pressing back and forth against one another. It also included Arthur ruffling Merlin’s hair and, if they were alone in Arthur’s flat, Merlin mock-fighting Arthur with his legs for possession of the middle section of the sofa.

 

*************

**2 June 1953**

“You know we’re just watching television, right? The Queen can’t actually see you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “ You idiot, I’m wearing it for myself! To mark the occasion!” Arthur snorted. Trust Merlin to think that a T-shirt with the Union Jack design would do- Americans!

“Like a costume?” he teased, but stopped there, just in case Merlin decided to change after all. Arthur quite liked how the T-shirt clung to Merlin and showed off his lanky frame. For a writer, Merlin had really strong arms. Arms which were now being enveloped in one of Arthur’s sweaters, which were too big for Merlin. (“How did I know I’d need to bring a sweater, Arthur? It’s SUMMER, for goodness’s sake. Only in England can a summer day be as cold as fall!”).

Merlin successfully wrestled the sweater by wrapping the long edges around him. “ I don’t’ know how you can take the weather. What’s the forecast? A maximum 12 degrees Celsius – what’s that in Fahrenheit? - dull skies, wind and sporadic rain. Urgh!!”

“Stop complaining. You were originally from the UK too, so don’t say it like you’re not a part of it too?”

“ You mean it should be in my blood? Nah- New York isn’t like that at all. Summer is proper summer.”

“ Well, on this improper summer’s day, our very proper Queen is getting crowned. We are going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

“It’s still HOURS away, Arthur!”

“Not late for the viewing. Late to eat Gwen’s food and grab the best of the drinks.”

“Ah. I see your point now.”

The streets were eerily quiet as they walked. There were a few cars parked here and there in the residential areas, near where the “H” aerial showed which houses had television. Cinemas they passed and other public places which had big-screen relays had people beginning to gather. Gwen’s father Tom had rented a television set for this special occasion, and insisted that his house could take all the _Mint Edition_ s people.

Arthur and Merlin arrived at Gwen’s to find she had splurged and baked enough to feed a small army. There were cream teas, Battenberg cake, Sunday lunch fare and copious amounts of alcohol. Leon had already secured his corner of the living room, surrounded by beer and cake, and Arthur and Merlin squished onto an armchair that was generous for one person, but cosy for the both of them.

“Alright?” Leon asked Merlin from across the room. “You chose a right good time to come. This is a real red-letter day for us.”

“It is pretty exciting isn’t it? And me, watching it “live” from the city itself!” Merlin agreed, talking carefully around a mouthful of cake.

Elyan added as he walked by, “ We’re all pretty lucky to even see it. I hear the Queen didn’t think it was right to have it on television, but someone managed to convince her.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, she thought it was a low-class medium, Westminster Abbey being a sacred place and so on. I don’t know really. But I have to say we’re getting used to the television. I reckon my dad might just want to hang onto it even after the Coronation is over.”

Gwen fluttered in, announcing that tea was ready, and there was an exodus towards the dining table with the roast and the Yorkshire pudding. Merlin was fascinated and insisted on seeing how the Yorkshire puddings were made. “It just…whooshes up!” he stared at the little round puddings full of air. “Less talk, more eating, I think,” Arthur pushed his plate towards him. “You pile the middle soft part with the roast and the gravy… like SO. Got it? “

“Oh the recipe for this is dead easy, “ Gwen said. “You can have mine, and make it back in New York! Who’s got the beer? I think I’ve prepared too much Pimms. It’s weird to drink Pimms when it’s so cold!”

Like any day without work and spent with good friends and lashings of food and alcohol, it passed by in a wonderful blur of happiness. Arthur vaguely remembered some speeches, shouts of “Viva Regina”, interviews from people saying what a momentous day it was, and choirs singing. The solemn silence when the crown was placed on the young queen seemed to reach through the television and cover their room as well, and everyone paused for a moment to watch the robed figure sitting regally on the throne.

“She looks really tiny for such an important figure, doesn’t she?” Gwen remarked quietly.

The afternoon eased into evening, and the room stayed dim as only a few table lights were switched on. Arthur heard Gwen and Morgana move to the dining room, and Elyan and Tom’s voices faded as well. There was some snoring from the corner- Leon?

Arthur awoke with a start when someone burrowed into him, hugging him from one side. He stopped himself from exclaiming when he realised it was Merlin that had latched onto him and that the room was in darkness.

By the dim streetlight, he could see Merlin was awake too, looking at him quite lucidly, if a little sadly. Arthur shook himself and cleared his throat.

“ What’s wrong Merlin? You ok?”

“ OK.” A pause. “ Just thinking it’s almost time to go home.”

“ Yeah, I guess we should start getting back to the flat. “

“ No, I meant time to go back to my home. To New York.”

“ Oh. “ Arthur looked again at Merlin, and thought that his own face must reflect the sadness he saw there. “Oh, “ he said again.

On the walk back home, under the cover of darkness, Merlin brushed the back of his hand against Arthur’s. Once. Twice. Three times. And then again. And again. Arthur lost count. He turned to look at Merlin’s profile, and saw the dark flashes flutter.

The next time it happened, Arthur turned his hand, and grabbed hold of Merlin’s. They came to a sudden stop and Merlin shifted uncertainly to look at him. Arthur scanned the streets around them, and pulled them both into a side street.

The day’s events had given him a buzz, and he wanted to seize the chance to end it off by doing something momentous of his own. In the dim street lighting, he could make out Merlin’s expression, his eyes darting nervously up and down Arthur’s face. Arthur felt as jittery as Merlin looked.

“Merlin,” he faltered. “ I know you have to go back to your own home and own life soon. But I’d really like to… I mean, I really like you… I mean, if you’re ok with it we could…”

He felt Merlin’s hand on his shoulder, pressing reassuringly. He swallowed and continued, “Even if it’s only for a few days. Although I don’t know how you feel. Or how this should be done. Ah!”.

That last word came out as an exhale, an expression of his frustration at not knowing what to say.

Merlin’s hand moved from his shoulder down his arm, rubbing his bicep gently. His other hand, clasped in Arthur’s own, tightened its grasp.

“Arthur.” Did he imagine that Merlin’s voice was quivering?

“Yes?” He dreaded what he was going to hear, and deflected his gaze to the ground.

“I’m… really cold. Can we take this back to your flat?” Arthur’s eyes shot up to look at Merlin, who was smiling brilliantly. “I really like you too. “

Arthur let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, clutched tightly at Merlin and gave a long happy laugh, his heart growing in his chest. Merlin’s eyes sparkled and he mimed rubbing himself to show how cold he was.

Arthur couldn’t resist by grab him in a big hug, whispering into his ear, “This should warm you up until we get back.” He had some trouble letting once he did that, revelling as he was in finally feeling the long line of Merlin’s body against his, and enjoying Merlin so close to him. He only let go when he lean in closer to Merlin, and Merlin protested, “ Oi! Your nose is cold!”

When they got back to the flat, Arthur had to let go of Merlin’s hands to open the door and put the heating on, but went right back to holding them. Merlin pushed himself back on the sofa, and trained his intense glance on Arthur. They had not bothered to switch on the lights, but the opened curtains let in enough of the street lamps.

As the heating kicked in, together with some semblance of normality, Arthur felt suddenly shy.

Merlin must have sensed it, for he gently removed Arthur’s hands from his and hugged Arthur instead.

“Hello,” Merlin said softly.

“Hey,” Arthur said huskily, speaking into Merlin’s hair.

Merlin let go and sat back so that they could look at each other. Arthur felt some of his courage and resolve return, but it was Merlin who leant in and kissed him first. His lips felt a little cold from the night air, but they quickly warmed up as Arthur pressed in. He settled his hands on Merlin’s waist as Merlin’s hands bracketed his face. He kissed Merlin again, and Merlin kissed back.

That was how Arthur and Merlin finally kissed, and Arthur felt like he’d really come home.

*******

Arthur honestly couldn’t tell you what happened the rest of the night. There was a lot of kissing and handholding . There was more hugging, and exploring of each other. Merlin discovered to his delight that Arthur was ticklish, and Arthur found out Merlin got cold at nights. He remedied this by holding him very tight when they shared bed that night, and the next two nights.   

Both of them seemed contented with the kissing and touching. They didn’t really talk about it, so it was hard to know what Merlin thought. Arthur was clueless as to how to start this particular conversation, and after a few failed attempts, gave up and concentrated on more important things like kissing Merlin more.

After that, Arthur’s grand strategy was one of denial. He refused to think about how Merlin was going home soon, and made the best of their days together by ditching work. They didn’t see much of London in these last few days, preferring to stay in Arthur’s flat for privacy. When they did go out, it was in the late evenings as the summer light was waning, walking along the river near St Paul’s, which Merlin really seemed to like.

Arthur only went into the shop for the going-away thing that the _Mint Editions_ team had organised for Merlin. There, he stayed largely on the sideline and let his colleagues swarm around Merlin, securing promises for him to write to them, pressing gifts at him and saying their good-byes. They stayed there longer than planned, until Arthur had to drag Merlin away from Gwen’s umpteenth hug, to pick up Merlin’s luggage and go to the airport.

 

******

They sat on the plastic airport seats, waiting for the last possible minute for Merlin to go in.

Merlin handed Arthur an envelope.

“Open it, “ Merlin said. “I wanted to post it over when I was gone, but I figured it was cowardly enough that I had written instead of saying it out to you.”

Arthur slid it out, read the note, and wasn’t sure what to say in response.

“You’re my favourite customer,” came out.

Merlin’s mouth twitched. “That’s not very romantic”.

“Who said I was romantic? I’m dashingly handsome though.”

“And who said _that?”_

“ _Ken-doll gorgeous_ , I believe was mentioned?”

“It’s customary to return compliments, not repeat your own!”

Arthur shuffled to move closer, lowered his voice and said, “ Very good-looking, cheekbones to cut diamonds, stars in eyes, lashes to die for, and the most generous and funniest character I know. “

Merlin’s eyes were soft and just a little wet. “You’re not talking about yourself again, are you?” he said jokingly.

Arthur continued, “ Able to put up with me, and is the other half of my coin.” He looked up, “I’ll miss you too. “ They hugged until Merlin really had to go.

 

 

* * *

**_Merlin’s note_ **

Dear Arthur

 

 

I’ll write properly to your guys to thank them, but this note is only for you.

I miss you already. You know I said I’m better at writing to express myself? So here it is.

No, you’re not what I expected. You’re so much more. Apart from being unbelievably, Ken-doll gorgeous, you’re also kind and noble and intelligent and caring. Please don’t hold these words against me. Sometimes, I like to pretend I never said things on paper when we meet face to face. I find it easier that way.

That day at Stonehenge, I wanted to pretty badly to turn around and hug you, but I was feeling pretty confused. I wasn’t expecting a holiday romance and I wasn’t- still am not- sure how I would cope with one. All the while I was sketching, I was imaging sitting like that with you all the time. What bliss!

So. I’m going to keep write you lot and lots and lots. Officially and unofficially.

Let’s see where this goes?

You are totally my very favourite bookseller.

Love you

Merls

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

 

14 East 95th St.

June 9 , 1953

 

Dear all at _Mint Editions_

It was a grand sending-off you gave, me, with that wonderful tea party in the bookshop. Big, massive thanks for having me over! It was such a blast, like one long party, a dream come true. I’m only sad that it had to end. Do look me up if any of you are over here?

I’ve enclosed some sketches that I had done when I was in London; maybe you’d like to leave the big one of the bookshop somewhere in the shop?

Your gift of that sketchbook is an inspired one. Now I’ll have somewhere fancy to write my story ideas and do my sketches. I am SO going to do one based on your guys! Who knows, it might be picked up for a book and movie deal, and one day other people will know about your shop, and share my big love for you!

Viva Regina? Viva _Mint Editions_!

Thank you so much!

Merlin.

 

* * *

 

June 15, 1953

Dear Arthur

 

I miss you very much.

I want to write and tell you everything, but it seems so mundane. Oddly for a writer, I feel that my words aren’t good enough. I think I’m going to just send you extracts from poems. What do you think?

Have one here to start!

Thinking of you with hope and much love

M.

* * *

**“Hope” is the thing with feathers** —

 

  

 

_Hope is the thing with feathers_  
That perches in the soul,  
And sings the tune without the words,  
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;  
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land,  
And on the strangest sea;  
Yet, never, in extremity,  
It asked a crumb of me.

_Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems._

_1924\. Part One: Life, XXXII_

 

* * *

 

  

 

**FIN.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> The book which lead to the movie is, in my opinion, perfectly written; I have to confess that I thus took most of Part 1 almost directly from it. The book is based on a real-life collection of letters and is amazing, please go and check it out!!


End file.
